As Chris kisses down my body the words from the television start to permeate my thoughts. It’s a news report about a missing girl last seen at a bus stop in a sleepy seaside town on the south coast … no clues as to what happened to her. I push against Chris to get him to move but he just keeps kissing me.

‘What is it?’ he says as he realises I’m not just offering friendly resistance.

‘The news, I need to hear it.’

‘Are you joking?’ He gets up and sits back with a petulant sigh.

I grab the remote and rewind the report. Images of a small town in Devon, quaint and picturesque. Just what you would imagine on a postcard from the south of England, lots of pebbles and red cliffs and hanging baskets full of pansies. The reporter standing at the bus stop is telling the story of a young girl, Mandy Green, who went missing just a few days earlier. The police believe it’s a possible kidnapping. The story ends with a sweeping view of the coastline, all the candy-coloured hotels along the shore. I stand.

‘I have to go,’ I say, knowing he will ask me questions. I don’t want to answer them right now; I don’t know how to. The news report is so familiar, it’s almost the same as one I saw many years ago, of the girl who went missing and was never seen again. Same town. I feel sick at the thought of history repeating itself in any way. I thought I had put a stop to all of that when I left.

‘Go where?’

‘Devon.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I know that place, Sidmouth, it’s where I grew up.’

‘There? That’s not what I expected. I thought you didn’t want to talk about your home because it was rough. That place looks like something out of a posh period drama.’

‘Not rough, just … not what it seems.’ How do I explain to him, with his perfectly open family and no understanding of what it feels like to be trapped inside someone else’s lies?

‘Well, I can’t take any time off right now, but after next Thursday we could all drive down. You could show us around some of your old haunts – I bet the kids would love it.’

‘No. No, I don’t want you to come. I need to go on my own.’

‘Today? It’s Saturday. We were going to take the kids to the cinema later. I don’t see why this can’t wait until Monday, at least.’

‘I’m sorry. I really need to go. You can manage without me for once,’ I say, as though he is being unreasonable to expect me to explain myself.